The Lacey Confession by Richard Greener Read Free Book Online Page A

immediately and then, as he dressed, she went to prepare some tea and hot oatmeal.
    At 6:25 am, less than twelve hours since his last visit, Chief Justice Earl Warren walked into the Oval Office again. The beige couch was gone. The desk too. All the pictures on the wall had been changed. He couldn’t recall if the lamps or the two round end tables had been there a few hours before. Johnson was already sitting behind a huge, wooden desk made of a lighter wood, more worn than the one Kennedy had. It must have been moved from the Vice President’s office during the night. The President had been shot on Friday and the new President moved in before the weekend was over. I suppose , Warren later wrote, that’s the way it has to be . Everything seemed in order. The phones were lined up across one end of the desk to the President’s right—two white ones, each with six lines, a black phone with three rows of extra buttons, the kind of setup Warren had never seen before, and a plain, red one—a simple, unmarked red telephone with no dial and no buttons. Warren shuddered to think what use it had. All the personal items were there too, suitably arranged. Among the pens and paperweights Warren could see pictures of the Johnson daughters, another showing Lady Bird and LBJ in work clothes probably taken at the LBJ Ranch, somewhere in Texas, and near the only clock on the desk, off to the side, was an old black and white photograph in a brass 5x7 frame of the young Congressman Lyndon Baines Johnson shaking hands with Franklin Delano Roosevelt. President Roosevelt was holding the Congressman’s right hand firmly in his own while his left hand wrapped completely around Johnson’s wrist. They were both smiling.
    Two young men, neither of whom Warren recognized, stood talking by the window nearest the door leading to the garden. The President was giving instructions to one of his secretaries, a comely young woman. He was especially animated although Warren could not overhear what he said. A valet, an old Negro man, approached carrying a tray. “Coffee or tea, Mr. Chief Justice?” he asked. Warren indicated a certain tea and watched as the old man prepared it with one hand while still holding the tray with his other. “Why don’t I just put it down over here,” he said. “And you can sit right down.”
    â€œMorning, Mr. Chief Justice,” said the President. “Louise,” he added, waving away the woman he had been talking to, “get that done right now, hear.” Turning back to Warren, LBJ frowned and curled his lips like he was trying to dislodge something stuck between his teeth. “You give any more thought to what we talked about yesterday?”
    â€œWell,” Warren answered, looking in the direction of the two younger men. “I’m not sure if . . .”
    â€œHey, Gene,” the President shouted across the room. “You and whatshisname want to find something useful to do?” He chuckled and they smiled as they left. “Thanks, boys,” he said as they shut the door behind them. It was hard to believe the funeral for the slain President was only hours away.
    â€œMr. President, I’ve been unable to change my thinking on this matter . . .”
    â€œLook here, Earl,” said Johnson, his demeanor radically different from the day before. “I don’t know who the fuck killed Jack Kennedy. I’d swear it was those goddamn Cuban sonsofbitches, if somebody could get me anything on it, any evidence at all. Kennedy tried to kill him—Castro, you know that? More than once as I hear it. Shit, too bad it didn’t work. And I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if that damn sonofabitch Castro just had enough of it. You know—fuck me? Fuck you! And just had him blown away, shot down. The President of the United States. And in Texas to boot, just to make me look bad!” President Johnson grumbled, something